


Yak Hair

by ursoself-satisfying (catbusfurrever)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) RPF, Queen (Band)
Genre: Ben is a sweetheart, Bohemian Rhapsody, Embarrassment, F/M, Movie Set, Nudity, Public Nudity, Queen - Freeform, Voyeurism, Work Romance, fake pubes, heated, not really sex, sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 19:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbusfurrever/pseuds/ursoself-satisfying
Summary: Before the rating changed, Bohemian Rhapsody (2018) had plenty of explicit scenes to shoot. One involved a little patch of yak hair.





	Yak Hair

**Author's Note:**

> i take requests n im active on tumblr!! find me @ursoself-satisfying !!!!  
> ok this one is rly odd ik but i hope people find it kind of funny n enlightening idk
> 
> Ben Hardy as Roger Taylor fic, Ben Hardy x F!Reader 
> 
> A/N: This takes place on the BohRhap set and I hope I explain all the relationships without getting too ooc or omnipotent! I like to keep you in the moment but I haven’t written in a long time so idk how good this is! 
> 
> Warnings: slight nsfw this is slight smut no actual intercourse but theres nudity and like one line of implied actions at the end but theres a lot of like making out n groping sooooo

You shivered in the cold of the trailer, bare skin blanketed with goosebumps. “So, it’s your first one, eh?” Mara scrubbed at your face harshly with a wet cloth as you sat your stillest in the blue swivel makeup chair. The trailer was filled with the soft sounds of your own grunts of protest as the artist handling you pulled your face left and right. It smelled awfully of peroxide and primer.

You pulled away a bit as the setting powder floated into your nostrils, “Yeah, I’m not too concerned, though. Should I be?” You laughed until your makeup artist pushed your jaw closed as she blended the first layer of foundation. You frowned at her.

She gently slapped your face. “No wrinkles!” she said, for the hundredth time in the last 2 hours. “And how should I know? I’m not the one going full monty for the world.” Her soft but sarcastic smile contrasted the roughness of her makeup application skills beautifully.

“This isn’t your first time working on someone in one of these scenes, though, is it?” You questioned, but you trusted her by now. Mara shot you an obvious look form her place at your ankles. Your body was being covered head to toe in primer and body shine. With slimy hands, Mara rose and patted your dressed shoulder. You watched her and shivered again, standing cold, wet, and stark naked under a thin dressing gown.

‘Might as well not be wearing anything,’ you’d remarked when you’d been handed the almost sheer sheet of coverage hours before.

“If I hadn’t,” Mara continued, “I don’t think they would have hired me,” She gave you a smirk. You watched as she surveyed her dusty mess of a makeup collection lying in front of a backlit mirror. Before she could reach for anything, your hand shot for her arm and squeezed it. Her head snapped to face you, jarred by your sudden touch.

“‘Cus look,” you said, a shake daring to surround your voice, “I’m just a little nervous, for several reasons, but-” You paused and a sound emerged from between the thin line of your pursed lips, born from your round inflated cheeks. It was like a sad, frustrated, baby elephant crying to their mother in protest before having to try something new. “Just-” You sighed and motioned subtly to your lower abdomen. Your voice was lower now, “Is this normal? I mean the legs are fine, but this-?” Mara studied your worried features with a playful mix of concern and amusement.

She snorted loudly. “I mean, for then it was. The 70’s-? Oh, yeah, and I would know.” She returned her attention to her mess and started to organize her array of brushes. She smiled back at you. You return the expression with difficulty and reply in a quiet, pained voice, pawing at your crotch from over your draped dressing gown.

“It itches.”

Every member of the skeleton crew was in their underwear in solidarity of your exposure. Brian, the director still wore his hat, though. It was a kind gesture from them all, you thought, as you awaited instruction. You glanced down at Ben, who was perched sitting on the edge of a lush, dark-colored couch on the set of the backstage bar with you. His wig was pre-tussled and framed his face beautifully. He looked almost reverent sitting there so calmly. You had to admit, sometimes he was hard to look at, being as angelic as he was. It was like he glowed in the softness of the scene’s lighting, something pulled directly from the Sistine Chapel. The wig he wore didn’t help. It awoke something in you that you hadn’t known was resting there before and made you incredibly uncomfortable, especially now.

You regretted how easily it was for you to see him in such a way, spread across a ceiling, made of the most divine brushstrokes at the hands of what must have been a true vessel of God. It was an image permanently logged into your memory for better use later. How odd you felt as you could imagine him with sheets barely draped over his lean body. You knew him, not well yet, but would you reach a point of no return before you even really got to know him?

Ben has been trying, you recalled, to spend more time with you. There were always interruptions, but the moments you had you valued. He had a serious demeanor but your conversations flowed easily. You admired his previous work, and he had plenty to share about his love for Queen. Detailed conversations on the topic of music were common between the two of you, with some soft flirting often threaded through both your words.

You enjoyed his presence. You hadn’t gotten to spend nearly as much time as you’d wanted or needed to for this scene, but you considered him a friend nonetheless. The production was so large and extravagant, it became impossible to dig too much connection from the few minutes you had together between scenes.

The busyness of the shooting schedule prevented you from interacting much before today. You’d had the table reads but it was a boy’s club. They were sweet, and Joe had quickly become a good friend and confidant, but Ben? Rami? Gwilym? The power leads remained together most of the time. That was simply how it was organized. When they weren’t together, they were always alone, preparing for the most detailed performance they would ever give. Their dedication was admirable but never allowed you enough time to bond. That only heightened the strangling feel of the scene. The two of you, barely friends yet, being so intimate.

‘Maybe I’m overthinking this’, you thought, though you would have sworn you could feel him watching you nearly as much as you hoped he didn’t know you watched him. Maybe you weren’t imagining the touches in your seconds long exchanged, or the passing glances between makeup and hair. You felt something, regardless, and you wanted him to feel it too.

You were sitting on the edge of the bar, you kicked your feet in front of you, the edges of your bellbottoms bouncing off your outrageous platforms. It was abnormally quiet in the minutes before filming today. With so few people on set, you supposed it should have been expected but there was something else, a pregnant air that made it easier to breathe out than in. It seemed to surround you and Ben especially. You and Ben exchanged few words due to this. This was the first time any of your spare moments together hadn’t been used to debate the passion of Queen’s last live album. Before you could allow yourself to get lost once again in the haze that was your scene partner, you were interrupted.

“Alright, folks, let’s get ready. We shoot in five.” Brian approached your place at the bar and address you and Ben. “You guys good? Comfortable?” Ben nodded and mumbled a positive response, smiling at Brian then, for a moment, at you. Brian looked in your direction.

Grinning thinly, you gave a thumbs up, “Ready, Freddie.” Brian flashed a smile then looked down at his notes.

“Ok, keep in mind the intentions and feelings here. Ben,” he turned to the man on the couch, “to you,” he pointed at him for emphasis, “she’s just a friend. At this point in time, its really common for you to have these casual relationships, but she-” Brian turned back to you, “You, [Y/N], are the revolution, but he’s a pretty boy with a big head so-” he rattled off aspects of the past to keep in mind as well as some contradictory last-minute performance notes, ‘She’s a hookup, but she’s more’, ‘You’re friends, but there’s a history’, ‘He’s close to you, but you should treat him like a distant God’. Geez, you’d heard it all before from crazy Brian and hadn’t had the time yet to forget it.

“Most of all right now, guys, I just want you to feel like this is something new and exciting. Its the same thing you’ve done a million times, but there’s something off. This scene is personal change. Let us know if you need anything. We’re here to support you.” He nodded and looked you both in the eyes, patting your shoulders in some tried show of support.

As he walked away you realized he hadn’t even addressed the many little elephants in the room. ‘I admire his brace choice in boxer briefs, though,’ you smiled and snorted to yourself.

Ben watched you without you realizing it. He smiled at your apparent amusement. You stood and walked over to him, “Are you ready, Freddie?” You smiled away the awkwardness as you set your legs on the outsides of his thighs, preparing to straddle.

He laughed lightly, “Um, I play Roger, actually. I’m not sure if you- maybe you didn’t read the script or-” He laughed again as you smacked his arm playfully. He sniffled, “I’m ready, love. You?”

“As well as I can be, I suppose. I mean, my entire body is covered in, like, shimmering cocoa butter. How much more prepared can one get?” You enunciated your words to take the ease off the intimacy of the moment.

Hands cam sliding up your thighs. “Completely covered? Can’t wait-” Ben bit his lip in an exaggerated way and winked.

You smacked him again. “Shut it, Hardy.” He yelped but the sound soon turned to a chuckle. “You won’t be waiting long, I mean, you know, you’ll be covered in it soon anyway,” you replied shooting him a wink back. Your co-star let out a small chuckle but before he could respond-

“We’re set! Ready?” You both give a sign of confirmation to the yelling AD. “Alright, rolling!” Another assistant comes running up beside the two of you with a clapboard. “And…action!” The splitting sound that gives the ‘clapboard’ its ‘clap’ rings through your ears as a sign for you to begin the scene.

The air changes. You can almost smell it, the impending scent of sweat mixed with wig glue and sweet body lotion. It’s still. It’s still until Ben- Roger- grips your hips and rips you from your standing position, slamming you down on his lap. You move with him, immediately, naturally. Grinding against him, your hands caress his face. His face collides with yours and you start moving in sync. Its a teeth clashing, tongue-tying, lip bruising masterpiece you’d come to worship. The eyes on you moved to the back of your mind as you pulled away for air, disconnecting only for a moment. Was this acting or has it evolved to instinct? It was like you craved him suddenly, every bit of your flesh having imaginary spasms of withdrawal when you weren’t melting into him. It was a lot of effort to keep your sacrilegious fantasies out of your head.

If Ben Hardy only had one talent, it would have been to make you weak. His fingers dance up your sides, skimming the skin of your midsection, but ultimately decided to save that for late, leaving you hoping later was coming soon. Settling on your breasts for a minute, he groped your braless mounds once before leaving to hold your face softly as you kissed.

This was the first actual kiss you had shared. You’d rehearsed, sure, and choreographed some of this erotic movement, but you’d never, in all that time on his lap, has kissed him. It was sweet. He tasted- He tasted like fresh mint. ‘Maybe he was nervous, too’ you thought. The leftover flavors of mouthwash brought you some comfort. He’d put in the effort to make himself presentable, perhaps. ‘Maybe he’s just professional.’ You’d done the same thing, abusing a tin of Altoids pre-scene, and though you had more than professionalism on your mind, you had doubts that he had anything more on his at the time.

Thumbs sliding under your waistband and a synchronic bite on your lip forced you back to the moment. How easily you could get lost with him. You lifted your hips and groaned against him. He took complete advantage of you change in position, ripping yous bellbottoms down your thighs, earning a squeal from you. He chuckled and smirked at you from beneath a wild set of blonde bangs. You struggled to kick off your shoes while Ben- as Roger- pawed at your ass.

At this point, the only sounds echoing hideously through the lofty soundstage were the lewd moans and groans the two of you were eliciting from each other. The smack of the waistband of your cotton and mesh thong rips through the soft voices of the two of you. ‘Roger’ grins widely at the second soft squeal you’ve given him.

You’d almost forgotten this was a scene. It’s all planned. You’d talked through it with him what felt like a million times. You enjoyed this man too much. Honestly, either he was an incredible actor, which, no offense to him, you thought was not the case here, or he was as completely immersed in your illusion of lovemaking as you were. You waited for it to all come crashing down.

Ben’s eyes were closed as he resumed his place at your lips. He’d helped you wiggle out of your jeans and hike up your shirt. He’d barely been wearing a shirt to start with but now it was strewn across an armrest and the buttons of his jeans had been undone. Your nails traced the hairs leading up his stomach from below his waistline, your fingertips just barely touching his skin. You can feel his breath hitch as you push down the top of his briefs. Smiling wickedly against his lips, you slowly remove your hand.

You’re not sure if what you feel against your inner thigh is really Ben or a prosthetic for the sake of the shoot. You’re hoping against the ladder, pushing against the hardness to prove yourself right. Judging by your partner’s reaction you think you were.

As per the plan, but with the motivation of being tired of being toyed with, ‘Roger’ finally turns his attention to the space between your legs, but not before lingering it in your eyes. You watch him pause on your breasts, nipples pert for him as he licks his lips. He drags his gaze away and continues down to your thong. He smiles. It’s too wide to be sexy.

‘Oh, no,’ you thought, ‘shit has hit the fan.’ A thousand profanities ran through your mind. There must have been steam rising from your head based on how hot your face felt and no doubt how red it had gotten. Ben looked back up at you and let out a strangled chuckled accompanied by a look of surprise or maybe it was disbelief. Suddenly every crew member became horribly obvious to you and your fantasy washed away.

You were wearing fake pubes and they were made of yak hair.

Was this your lowest moment? It certainly felt like it while you were in it. Apparently Ben thought very differently, or you were wrong and he was twice the thespian you were, because it may have delayed him but did it stop him? Hardly. He ripped the thong in two places and threw it across the room. His face was red, as well, from embarrassment or holding back laughter, you didn’t know. You were not completely exposed, with no option of cover on your lower half. With your shirt still bunched up over your chest, ‘Roger’ pulled you onto him, his face staring up at you from against your midsection. Comfortably, his hands rested on your ass, kneading every once in a while. His smile was goofy and you couldn’t help it anymore. Trying to stay serious as a horrible, itchy mound of yak fur pressed against you and your co-star’s chest.

Your character cracked and you broke out in loud laughter as Ben followed. He held you by your waist, his forehead resting above your bellybutton. Running your hands through his fake locks so familiarly now calmed you. You smiled widely at him as he looked back up at you.

“God, I’m so sorry, it’s just-”

“Its yak hair, yeah.”

You both laughed again. “And it’s incredibly itchy,” you added. The two of you were enjoying the moment when Brian came swiftly walking back towards you. You gave each other knowing smiles and Ben rolled his eyes a bit before turning to the director with an apologetic smile. Brian didn’t look incredibly happy, but he was calm nevertheless.

“That was great, guys, we got a lot of footage, didn’t, uh, finish the scene, but we got a lot of footage.” He paused and scratched his cap in clear frustration. “Yeah, we’re gonna have to do another take ‘cus you had, uh- here’s the thing, maybe you forgot but you also had- what’re they called again- oh, yeah, lines.”

 

“Maybe later you could, uh, come back to my trailer to, uh, rehearse but, you know, without the yak hair.”


End file.
